


Choosing Each Other

by fritesfritesfrites



Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Multi, Nonmonogamous Relationship, PTSD, greg is a marshmallow, traumatized Alex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27547036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fritesfritesfrites/pseuds/fritesfritesfrites
Summary: Alex is struggling, and Greg has far too many feelings
Relationships: Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Greg Davies/Alex Horne, Greg Davies/Alex Horne/Rachel Horne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Choosing Each Other

Greg is out of bed but not technically awake when Rachel calls. She sounds frazzled and direct, in the uniquely Rachel way that’s familiar to him by now. In the background he can hear the ever-present sounds of their children and pieces of an argument about breakfast.

“Hi, Greg? Sorry to call so early. Alex had a flashback last night. It hasn’t been this bad in years and we’re a bit underwater here. Is there any chance you’re free today—”

Greg, who began putting on trousers the moment he picked up because Rachel wouldn’t call unannounced this early unless it was an emergency and who is now searching for his keys, cuts her off. “Of course. I’m leaving now.”

He spends the drive over compiling the assorted things Alex has told him about his PTSD over the years. About the assault as a university student, how difficult those first few months of recovery were, and the small ways it shapes his life now. It came up organically at first, when he asked Greg to walk him to his car after dark, in the types of films he avoids, or the way his chipper personality masks his reluctance to trust new people. Sure, Alex has talked about his flashbacks. What triggers them and what they look like. But Greg has never seen it firsthand.

Rachel had said that the back door would be unlocked and to let himself in, and when Greg stoops under the kitchen doorframe he’s presented with a scene of pure Horne controlled chaos. A nanny he recognizes but could not name is in the process of getting the boys in coats and hats. Rachel looks up from tying a shoe and seems to uncoil by a degree. “He’s in his office,” she says, mouthing thanks as he navigates around the stack of breakfast dishes and toward the stairs.

Through the open office door Greg can see Alex hunched in a corner of the small couch. Having personally deconstructed Alex with just his mouth on many occasions, Greg is momentarily stilled by the image. He has never seen Alex this destroyed, his eyes not seeming to focus on anything, a slight twitch to his whole body, with one arm curled tight to his chest, fingers picking at his shirt and the other arm splayed out, motionless. As if it weren’t his at all.

Greg can’t stop the half-whispered, half-gasped “baby” that comes out of his mouth as he steps slowly into the room. Alex makes a muffled jump in acknowledgement of Greg’s presence, though he’s still not making eye contact. Greg pauses in front of Alex, consciously giving him space and leaving a clear line of sight to the door. Leaning down to meet Alex’s eye level, using every ounce of effort to keep his tone neutral in order to cut through the fog bank in front of his head, he asks, “can I touch you?”

Alex nods, and Greg carefully lifts the draped arm, pulling the inside of Alex’s wrist to his lips, confirming his racing pulse as he makes steady, grounding contact. Alex crumples somehow further into himself, with fresh tears on his cheeks as he begins to shake. Before Alex can open his eyes, Greg is beside him on the couch, scooping Alex into his arms, Alex’s head nestled against Greg’s chest as Greg rubs slow circles into his back. They are 13 feet of man on a glorified loveseat and Alex feels small and secure in the way only Greg can make him.

This is how Rachel finds them when she’s seen the kids out the door and made a cup of tea: Alex with his eyes closed, still and breathing evenly, Greg’s face soft but intent as he holds Alex close. She watches them from the doorway until Greg notices her, and then pours herself into Alex’s desk chair with a small, tired sigh. 

“How are you holding up?” Greg asks softly. He sees Rachel start to brush off the question, then remember who she’s talking to and reconsider. “Last night was rough. He barely slept. We barely slept,” she says, looking down at the mug in her hands. “I’ve got the kids occupied for the day and that helps, but it’s never easy to see him hurt this badly.”

Alex, who they’d both known wasn’t asleep, makes a small sound in response now. He opens his eyes slightly before continuing, “sorry we bothered you on a Saturday.” Greg runs a massive hand through Alex’s hair, hoping to come off on the compassionate side of frustration. “Alex, I’m here because I chose to be here. Because I love you and you’re in pain.” And Greg’s heart breaks again, as Alex burrows closer into him with a slight whimper.

They sit like this, unmoored from time, Greg and Rachel alternating small talk with gentle reassurance as Alex weaves in and out of focus. Eventually, Alex unfolds from the couch and heads to the bathroom. Rachel and Greg go downstairs, Rachel to find painkillers for the dehydration headache she knows from experience is coming and Greg to make a fresh pot of tea. “How long is he like this, usually?” Greg asks as he fills the kettle. 

“He’ll probably seem almost normal by tomorrow” Rachel replies as she searches the cabinet, “to strangers, at least. It might be weeks until he stops jumping at every sound.”

She’s found the bottle and turned back toward him now. “I know you have your own life outside of us, and please feel free to say no, but-” she pauses here and seems to steady herself before continuing, “can you stick around? The boys will be home in a few hours and it’s just a lot to handle.”

Greg, who has by now finished pouring the tea pulls Rachel into a hug with a slight chuckle. “I was working out how to ask if I could take him home with me tonight, to give him a quiet place to work through it and to spare you.”

Rachel visibly melts against him at this. “I don’t know what we’d do without you. Of course, we got through the worst of it before the kids, but still.”

They move slowly through the next hour. Greg briefs Alex on the plan and keeps a reassuring hand on him through the small waves of panic and dissociation. Rachel packs him an overnight bag. When they’ve shepherded Alex into Greg’s car, Greg puts a hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “Thank you for trusting him with me. Can you get some rest?” he asks. 

Rachel nods wearily. “I’ll try, and Greg – I’m keeping my phone close. If there’s anything you’re unsure of, just ask.”

Alex is grateful, on the drive back to Greg’s, that Greg is capable of filling the silence with a string of sightseeing facts about the buildings they pass. He’s exhausted and not quite settled in his own body, but the cool window against his face, the constant pressure of Greg’s hand on his leg, and the sound of Greg’s voice are keeping him tethered. He realizes they’re pulling up as Greg’s voice becomes more direct. “What are you feeling like, couch or bed? Or food?” Greg asks. 

Alex takes a moment, visibly struggling to take stock of himself before answering. “Actually,” he begins before pausing.

“Anything you need.” Greg responds, turning off the car and facing him, raising a hand to brush Alex’s face.

“Could I take a shower? It helps, usually. To clear my head.”

“Of course,” Greg answers as he helps Alex out of the car.

The trip inside and up the stairs makes clear just how much the exhaustion has taken out of Alex but Greg is happy to steer him, dropping his phone and Alex’s bag in the bedroom and leading Alex into the bathroom. Greg is trying to mask how intently he’s watching Alex as he turns on the shower and guides him through undressing. It’s much easier to tell Alex’s tired quiet from his dissociating quiet when he’s talking and he doesn’t love the combination of Alex naked, with his trauma this raw, and the noise of the water. So he’s taking it slow, mostly managing to pull off casual while checking Alex’s eyes every few seconds. 

And then he’s got Alex in the shower, leaned against the wall, and gently lathered. Alex will not remember the steps of this. He blinks and Greg is rinsing soap off of his shoulders as carefully as Alex bathed his children as infants. Blinks again and he’s wrapped in towels. Greg is saying something he can’t make out. And then he’s in his favorite of Greg’s pajamas, the ones he always wears when he stays over, and Greg is guiding him into bed. 

Greg stays sitting beside him, focused on the repetitive motion of slowly rubbing Alex’s shoulder as his brain catches up. When Alex can think clearly again he looks around the room, realizing fondly that Rachel must have taught him the safety measures they use on his hardest nights. The curtains are closed, the lamp is on, and the bedroom door is locked. When he looks up at Greg he finds that familiar mix of affection and concern looking back. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey.” Greg answers, “think you can sleep?”

Alex nods, feeling safe and warm, and overwhelmingly tired. “Stay?” he asks.

“Of course.”

And Alex lets himself succumb. When he wakes up, he regains the memory in pieces. He’s aware of Greg’s soft pajamas and then Greg’s soft sheets, and Greg’s soft, warm hand on his shoulder. And when he opens his eyes Greg is there, soft and warm and steady. 

“How do you feel?” Greg asks.

“Took the edge off. Also, starving.”

“Then let me make you dinner” Greg says, leaning down to kiss Alex on the forehead.

“Wait” Alex says, pulling Greg into a tight hug and breathing him in before letting go. “Okay, now.”

Greg makes a pasta dish he claims to have learned from a magazine and they spend the evening on the couch, only somewhat paying attention to what’s on the TV. Alex mostly wants to be physically attached to Greg and Greg wants to be whatever Alex needs. He’s exchanged a few texts with Rachel to confirm they’re doing alright, including a photo of Alex, managing to look small by nature of Greg’s oversized clothes, smiling over his massive cup of tea. 

By the time they go to bed it almost seems like a normal day, except that Alex is still scanning the doors and windows on a loop and his answers come with a split-second delay, like he’s behind a sheet of glass. Greg is working hard to project calm, while the thought of ever seeing Alex this genuinely broken again makes him want to simultaneously cry and punch something. 

Alex takes his anti-anxiety meds, brushes his teeth, and texts Rachel to say goodnight and to thank her for packing the meds. He falls asleep in a soft bed, with the lights on and the door locked, and with Greg wrapped around him, promising to keep him safe.

Greg wakes up to being kicked in the shins. Alex wakes up drenched in sweat, with a firm hand on his arm and Greg’s voice, gentle but insistent repeating, “Alex, you need to wake up. It’s a dream, Alex.” And for a second the two realities merge. The one where he’s being held down in the dark and the one where he’s twisted up in the sheets in a bright room he knows well, with Greg making sure to stay in Alex’s line of sight but away from his face. And then it’s just the one reality, but he can’t stop crying, and Greg is carefully untangling the sheets and fetching him a cool glass of water from the sink and holding the sobbing mess of him, a hand rubbing his back and Greg’s voice low and warm in his ear.

They stay like this until Alex’s breathing has steadied and his eyes have focused. “Do you want to talk about it?” Greg asks, watching Alex’s face closely.

“No. It’s … it’s the usual dream. I’m just so tired of being scared.”

Greg takes Alex’s face in his hands at this, unable to put words to the way his heart is broken open. He keeps his hands on Alex, surreptitiously checking for his pulse to come down. When Alex falls asleep again it’s with his face settled on Greg’s chest, one hand slightly grasping at Greg’s shirt. Greg lies there awake, listening to Alex’s steady breathing and feeling overcome with love. And the strands of a thought he’s been working on for months seem to come into focus.

He’d thought it was just common, misplaced jealousy. But this arrangement is exactly what each of them wants. He has all the time with Alex, alone and with Rachel that he needs. And Rachel and Alex, well, Rachel and Alex are the best evidence he’s found for the existence of soulmates. He has genuinely been brought to tears by the earnest beauty of their marriage. No, it’s that more than anything, Greg can’t stand to feel useless. Rachel is obviously quite capable of taking care of Alex, and Alex is the strongest person Greg has ever met. Now, trying to keep from crying so as to not wake Alex who is draped across him, safe and warm and trusting, Greg can put a name to what he feels whenever they talk about Alex’s hard years. He feels grateful to have Alex for the night, because the thought of knowing he is hurting and not being able to hold him is unbearable.

Greg had accepted that he was hopelessly in love with them both years ago. Now, feeling like his tear ducts might combust at the subtle, contented sounds Alex makes in his sleep he knows there was never any other choice.

Before he falls asleep Greg sends a text to Rachel.

_Not emergency, will update in morning. He had the nightmare. Asleep again now, am trying to let him sleep at long as possible. May bring him back later than planned._

Then _and I love you both so much. Thank you for choosing me._

He wakes up to the reply. _Thanks for taking care of our boy._

Alex is tucked in beside him, his face completely free of tension for the first time in days, and Greg has never felt this content in his life. Keeping his word, Greg lets him sleep in. When Alex wakes up Greg is sat beside him reading the newspaper, a cup of tea on the bedside table. Alex answers Greg’s questions by pulling him into an embrace that communicates exactly enough.

Over breakfast Greg notices Alex stretching and wincing. He’s well aware they’re both mortal and aging but this seems excessive. When he asks, Alex explains this happens often. “All that stress has to go somewhere, but I’m usually only sore for a day or so.”

Greg rounds the kitchen counter to put his hands on Alex’s shoulders. “Alex. I have hands. And an inflatable jacuzzi. These are solvable problems.”

And while Alex still thinks it’s a ridiculous purchase, he does admit that the warm water is lovely once Greg is slowly, tenderly working the knots out of his back. Mostly Alex is focused on kissing Greg, and Greg pretends to be upset about the interruption to his very serious massage technique. Unspoken between them is the acknowledgement of how far they’ve come since the previous day, from Alex wrecked in his office, and how quickly they both know he could fall apart again. But for this moment Alex is safe and warm in Greg’s arms on a balcony with a view, and he can’t stop smiling.

Greg can sense the change in him as soon as they get into the car. Alex is using the drive to re-acclimate, like an astronaut preparing for re-entry to his native atmosphere. Greg has always been impressed by this – how completely Alex focuses on his kids, how present and patient he is as a father, but also how intently he switches between roles. He knows that from the outside he can seem like the more controlled and controlling one of the relationship, but his friends know it’s all a bluff. It’s a hell of a thing, the way Alex gives himself over so entirely to the people he loves – to his kids, the show, to Greg and Rachel. Greg feels sometimes like he can’t look straight at his relationship with Alex, like the intensity might blind him.

They pause for a moment after pulling into the driveway, Alex scrubbing away the last traces of fragility, Greg just trying not to cry. Alex is first through the door and the kids are on him immediately, pulling him in to a tense consultation about legos as if nothing is wrong. Greg hangs back in the kitchen with Rachel, unsure how to put any of this into words. And then she’s by his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and exhaling all his thoughts.

“Don’t try to pretend you’re not an enormous sap, because you are.”

“I know, I know. My reputation is blown. It’s worth it though. He’s worth it.”

Rachel pulls him a little closer now. “We’re worth it,” she declares.


End file.
